


it's like wishing for rain as i stand in the desert

by NoGood_InGoodbye



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Beca running from her problems, Chloe facing hers, Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, Drinking, F/F, Family, Family Fluff, Fluff, Lesbro!Theo, Mom!Beca, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Soft!Beca, Soulmates, Steca!Brotp, pregnant!Chloe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-03-08 10:16:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13456149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoGood_InGoodbye/pseuds/NoGood_InGoodbye
Summary: Stacie turned to Beca, tilting her head in silent question. Beca quirked a brow in response. This was their usual mode of communication. A little quirk here and a tilt there, a twitch of the nose or a short breath out. They got it. They understood each other.Or: A collection of drabble fics, abandoned fics, and lots of Bechloe.





	1. maybe because it's too good to be true

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! So, I have good news and bad news! Good news is 1) I finished chapter 5 of "empires" (I should really come up with a cool acronym for that), 2) I'm getting my mentor for my thesis this week! So I'm hoping it's a prof that doesn't hate me hahahaha, and 3) I'm starting a drabble collection! So, starting this collection is in line with my first (and only!) bad news... I have terrible writer's block for "empires" hahaha, so I asked my bestie for help and she suggested I do little drabbles to get my writing fingers up. So this is the only drabble I've done so far, but she's given me some good word prompts that seem easy enough to use, hopefully, hahahaha xD
> 
> Anyways! If any of you have any pairing request or have your own word prompt or any prompt, feel free to comment below! All the love, fam <3
> 
>  _Word Prompt:_ Trust
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own the PP characters or franchise. Unbetaed! Story title from Ron Pope's Drop In The Ocean and Chapter title from Dolly Parton's Teach Me To Trust.

Beca Mitchell always knew that she didn't like people.

Or, okay, Beca Mitchell knew that she didn’t like  _most_  people.

People were shits. Frustrating little fuckers that thought that just because they knew you or your name, they could push themselves into your life. At least, that's what Beca's believed almost all her life. That's how Beca's  _felt_  most of her life.

Until she went to Barden.

Until she met the Bellas.

Until she met Chloe Beale.

Beca didn't trust many people, because, as she had once believed—people are shits. She knew her trust problems stemmed from more than just her rocky relationship with her dad. She knew it wasn't just losing contact with her high school best friend and being cheated on by her first girlfriend. She knew it wasn't from all the boyfriends that had broken her mom's heart. She knew it was more than that.

Going to Barden helped her figure that out.

The  _Bellas_ helped her figure that out.

Chloe Beale helped her figure it out.

Her time with the Bellas taught her that not all people wanted to use her for her talents—that sometimes people just wanted what’s best for you. They taught her that not every human being were shitheads—although some really were, but the excusable, slightly endearing kind (she was definitely under that category). They taught her that if you put your trust in the right people, they’ll more than live up to your expectations.

They taught her how to trust again.

And maybe that’s why she was hugging Chloe Beale at the center stage of the World Championship of A capella, heart pounding and grin face-splitting as she looked up at the woman who’d turned her whole world upside down.

Beca found herself drowning in deep blue as the redhead looked back at her with a blinding grin, eyes twinkling as the cheers and shouts and world around them faded away. Pale slender hands tightened around her tanned waist as Chloe tucked a strand of brown behind her co-captain’s ear, hand lingering to cup the brunette’s cheek as it hovered just inches away from the younger woman’s blushing skin.

Warm blue met steely orbs as the redhead leaned in and Beca rose to her toes. Beca felt the faintest whisper as she watched warm blue drop down to her lips. “Do you trust me?”

A slow smile curled the DJ’s lips as she pulled the supersenior impossibly closer. “Stupid question, Beale.”

Beca Mitchell always knew that she didn't like most people, but she also always knew that she loved Chloe Beale.


	2. 'cause they will never take us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Beca!" The clothing rack was separated as the redhead returned to the room. "You know how important today is for me!"
> 
> Beca looked up from her food to see the redhead glaring at her shoes as she tied them. A soft smile curled the younger woman's lips. "I know. Which is why I made you breakfast. Your favorite."
> 
> Or: Beca can cook, Chloe is frazzled, and it could probably maybe be canon (set some time between PP2 and PP3 (maybe a little after PP2)).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the second drabble! I'm thinking of just making this thing a dumping site for the fics I don't know if I'll ever continue... What do y'all think? Cause I have this one soulmate au that I'm not sure I'll push through anymore and it's jsut sitting in my drafts all lonely and shit :(
> 
> Anyways! Tell me what you think and what you want! <3
> 
>  _Word Prompt:_ Alarm
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own PP. Unbetaed. Chapter title from Hey Monday's Set Off.

The soft bubbling from the pot mixed with the gentle humming sung under the little producer's breath. The sweet smell of hot chocolate and the fresh scent of fruit-filled pancakes mingled with the music as the apartment slowly buzzed to life. Everything was peaceful. The world was calm.

Beca's been feeling that way more and more these past few months. Maybe it was her new job, or the new artist that signed last week that had actual talent, or the fact that she was  _finally_ done with university, or maybe it was her new apartment. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the peacefully sleeping redhead in the double bed behind her. The one she was making breakfast for. The one she was kind of hopelessly in love with.

Maybe it was that.

Maybe it was Chloe Beale.

She’d realized it when she’d broken up with Jesse and hadn’t felt as crushed as she thought she would. She spent the entire month and a half afterwards wondering if there was something wrong with her—if she’d just been using the man. It had troubled her for a while until Chloe had made her sit and talk about it over two tubs of ice cream. She felt better after that—kind of peaceful.

She always felt more at peace with Chloe Beale.

As long as she had Chloe Beale.

A soft groan harmonized with Beca's soft humming before—

"Beca!" The sound of a bed creaking and sheets rustling madly behind her jolted the brunette from her wandering thoughts.

Beca lowered the heat before turning around to see sunny red hair flying across the room. An amused little smile quirked the brunette's lips as she watched her best friend dash around their tiny space in a frenzy.

"Yeah, Chlo?" Beca replied, eyes shining as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back on the kitchen counter, smile growing as she watched the redhead duck behind the clothing rack and into the bathroom. 

"Why didn't you wake me?!" Chloe's muffled yell only brightened the brunette's grin. 

Beca turned back to the pot, grin still wide as she poured the chocolate into two mugs and turned off the stove. "I'm not your alarm clock, Beale." Beca placed the breakfast on their tiny table before dropping the pot and whisk in the sink and grabbing some paper plates. "Which rang like four times, by the way."

She could hear the click and soft creak of the bathroom door, signaling Chloe's departure from the bathroom. "And you didn't think to wake me?"

Beca set the table before taking a seat and grabbing a blueberry pancake. "I tried. It's not my fault you sleep like the dead."

"Beca!" The clothing rack was separated as the redhead returned to the room. "You _know_ how important today is for me!"

Beca looked up from her food to see the redhead glaring at her shoes as she tied them. A soft smile curled the younger woman's lips. "I know. Which is why I made you breakfast. Your favorite."

"Which I can't eat because I'm running  _late_ ," Chloe griped as she tied on her last shoe and stood, turning her frown on the music producer only to find her best friend grinning. "Do you seriously think this is funny?"

"Just a bit," Beca admitted, chuckling as she shook her head and stood to grab her phone. "Do you even know what time it is, Chlo?"

The redhead's brows furrowed as she shook her head. "No, but I know that I'm not early."

"Yeah," the brunette turned on her phone and showed Chloe the screen (her lockscreen that of the pair on their first night in that very apartment, pajama-clad and wine filled, faces flushed from laughter and alcohol). "You're just  _super_ early."

"6:23?!" the redhead exclaimed, pulling away from the screen with a jolt. "But you said my alarm rung four times!"

"Yeah, because you set it five hours before your call time so you wouldn't be late, remember?"

"I," Chloe nibbled on her lower lip. "No, I forgot I did that, sorry."

Beca's smile was soft, amused, as she shook her head before nodding to the breakfast. "Now are you going to make me finish this meal all by myself or are you joining me?"

The redhead's sheepish smile was followed by an eager nod as the older woman followed the producer two steps into their kitchen and took the seat opposite her. The brunette slid one mug over to the redhead before cupping her own with one hand and raising it for a toast. "To your first day in the clinic."

Chloe's smile grew into a blinding grin, raising her mug to tap it lightly on Beca's. "To the best friend in the world."

Not quite the title Beca wanted, but she'd take it. As long as she had Chloe Beale.


	3. who needs a right arm when i've got a best friend?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stacie turned to Beca, tilting her head in silent question. Beca quirked a brow in response. This was their usual mode of communication. A little quirk here and a tilt there, a twitch of the nose or a short breath out. They got it. They understood each other.
> 
> Or: Stacie is Beca's main bitch, Beca regrets their friendship (all the time), and lots of insults are said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-o fam! So this is a really old fic I worked on when I was in my "soulmate au" phase and my best bitch sent me this tumblr prompt link to a shit ton of them. This was supposed to be a multi-chap but, as I am wont to do, I didn't finish it and I don't know if I ever will hahahaha.
> 
>  _Prompt:_ You get to share the same talents as your soulmate and you probably hit the jackpot because it’s the first time you’ve ever touched this instrument but you’re quite the professional at it, what? Shredding? I don’t know what that is but—oh… hey okay, I just did it I think.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own PP or any of the characters. Unbetaed. Also! If anyone wants to continue this, feel free to! Just credit me/tag me as your inspiration or something ;)

“What the  _fuck_?” Stacie stared, slack-jawed at the sight before her. Stacie Conrad knew  _everything_ anyone needed to know about Beca Mitchell—and then some. She knew that the girl was snappy and generally a grump, that she had very deep relationship and trust issues, that she was 60% water, 5% blood, 10% snark, and 25% coffee. She  _also_ knew that Beca Mitchell was  _horrible_ with social interactions. The only reason she’d managed to get so close to the little brunette was because Beca appreciated her lack of filter and blunt honesty. Stacie appreciated that she didn’t need to hide anything from Beca (although she’d hear a million complaints at morning-afters to the point that she’s memorized the  _“For fuck’s sake, Stace, leave a sock under or maybe fuck in your own house why don’t you?”_ ). It was refreshing and freedom filling all found in a tiny wannabe-DJ.

Which is why it took the taller brunette completely by surprise to see her best friend since diaper days casually caring for two children.

“You know, I should probably scold you for your language, but these little tykes probably don’t understand shit,” Beca smirked from her spot on the floor, arms wrapped around twin one-year-olds.

“What the hell?!” Stacie walked deeper into the room, the disbelief still etched on to her face. “Since when did you know how to care for  _kids_?!”

“I…” Beca mulled over her words, brows furrowing as she thought the question through. Her head tilted as she hummed for an answer. She looked back up with complete sincerity in her eyes. “I honestly have no idea.”

Stacie simply raised a brow in reply, taking a seat in front of the girl before gently taking one baby.

Beca shrugged before naturally adjusting her hold on the other child, gently brushing away the hairs that fell into the little boy’s eyes. “I honestly don’t know what I’m doing or how I’m doing this. It’s just… it’s like… like I’ve been doing this  _forever_ , y’know?”

“No, I  _don’t_  know,” Stacie scoffed, not harshly, but still in obvious disbelief. Her tone softened at Beca’s flinch. “I’ve known you  _forever_ , Becs. You’ve never even gone  _near_ a child, let alone held  _two_.”

Beca nodded. “Yeah, I know, but this just feels  _natural_. I know it isn’t some shit like mother’s intuition or whatever—even  _I_ know this is something else.”

Stacie nodded as if she understood—she didn’t, but nodding made more sense than asking questions that even Beca didn’t seem to have the answers to. The pair were enveloped in comfortable silence, rocking babies and cradling them peacefully. The quiet lasted for a whole three minutes before the child in Stacie’s arms started crying.

Stacie’s eyes widened as she very nearly panicked before Beca quickly switched babies with her and stood, bouncing the baby gently as she started to sing a lullaby.

Beca managed to easily calm the child, continuing to sing until the baby fell asleep. Stacie stared at her best friend in complete awe. Since when was Beca Mitchell good with babies? Since when was Beca  _effin_ ’ Mitchell good at  _singing_?

Stacie needed to reevaluate their friendship. Or make a profit from these newfound revelations. Or both.

She did both.

* * *

“Haven’t you tortured me enough?” Beca whined, digging her heels into the ground as Stacie dragged and pushed her through the activities fair.

“Beca, babe, honey, sweetheart, darling, sweetie pie, snookums,” Beca’s cringe only intensified at every sickly sweet pet name. Stacie grinned mischievously, huffing slightly and regretting the heels as she dragged her best friend around their new university. “Considering we’re not deaf  _or_ Jewish, I think your time for choosing our future extracurricular is over. Now, it’s  _my_ turn.”

Beca griped, leaning her weight towards the opposite direction. “It’s just ‘cause you’re in your fucking  _blond_ phase right now.”

“That is true, although you need to pull the blond back a word, Becs,” Stacie waggled her brows before shooting her a saucy wink.

“Gross,” Beca muttered, nose wrinkling as Stacie dragged her to the Barden Bella’s table. Neither freshman really knew  _what_ a Barden Bella was, but Stacie had been waxing poetry about the blond manning the table and Beca was the unfortunate best friend who had to follow.

As they neared the table, Beca’s uncooperative steps faltered and stopped completely at the sight of the bright-eyed redhead that stood next to the blond. Her breath caught in her throat as her jaw started to drop, her obvious awe for the woman interrupted by the harsh shove Stacie had given her.

Beca stumbled, nearly falling into the redhead.

“Woah, you okay?” the girl caught her, helping her right herself.

“Um—I—uh,” Beca stuttered, blush blooming over her pale features.

“First week back and cute girls are already falling for me!” the redhead grinned, impossibly blue eyes brightening before she shot her a little wink. “Not complaining, though.”

Beca turned into a full-on tomato, floundering before realizing that she couldn’t get out of this alone. She quickly ducked behind Stacie, her best friend’s grin almost exactly like the Cheshire cat’s. She kept her eyes to the floor, missing the way bright blue eyes followed her as she scuffed her shoes on the gravel and Stacie turned her attention to the pair manning the table.

The redhead snapped back into focus, grinning at Stacie as she handed the taller girl a flyer, “Hi! Any interest in joining our acapella group?”

Beca’s brows rose at that.  _Acapella_ group? Fuck. Did Stacie  _actually_ expect her to join a  _singing group_? She loved the girl, surely, but she had standards and a reputation. Her best friend can make do without her on this one.

Thankfully, her best friend seemed to be on the same page. The taller brunette’s brow quirked, repeating, “Acapella?”

“Yes,” the blond jumped in, eyeing the girl with interest. “We sing covers of songs but we do it without any instruments.”

“It’s all from our  _mouths_ ,” the redhead added, her gaze turning to Beca’s with a grin.

Beca grimaced, eyes falling back to the floor, “Yikes.”

The redhead’s smile merely widened, turning back to Stacie as she asked, “So, are you interested?”

Stacie turned to Beca, tilting her head in silent question. Beca quirked a brow in response. This was their usual mode of communication. Beca, being the awkward potato that she is, has always been better at speaking through action and Stacie, being the active young woman that  _she_ is—both physically and sexually, had created a silent little body language. A little quirk here and a tilt there, a twitch of the nose or a short breath out. They got it. They understood each other.

Stacie turned back to the redhead, “So, do you only sing in the group or are there competitions and stuff?”

The redhead nodded enthusiastically, “We sing all over the world and compete in national championships.”

“On purpose?” Beca blurted from her spot behind Stacie, the smaller brunette still using her as a shield.

The blonde’s eyes flashed, “We played the Cobb Energy Performing Arts Center, you bitch.”

“What Aubrey means to say,” the redhead jumped in as Stacie straightened in offense and Beca merely raised a brow. “Is that we are a close-knit, talented group of ladies whose dream is to return to the national finals at Lincoln Center this year.”

Beca turned to see blue eyes staring into hers, the redhead’s voice soft and gentle as she asked, “Help us turn our dreams into a reality?”

Before Beca could even reply, she felt Stacie’s fingers circling around her wrist followed by a sharp tug as the taller girl started to head off, huffing, “Sorry, but we’d prefer to join a group that doesn’t insult us.”

The redhead was still apologizing, her voice fading into the distance as Stacie dragged her away.

“Woah, Stace, calm the fuck down,” Beca still couldn’t shake her hand out of the death grip. “It’s not the first time I’ve been called a bitch.”

Stacie retorted hotly, “It’s the first time the person who’s said it escaped without a broken nose.”

“You like the girl,” Beca shrugged in understanding, not at all insulted by the blonde’s insult. “Besides, it’s okay. I think she had good reason to bite back, I  _did_ insult her group thing, after all.”

“No one gets to call you a bitch and get away with it,” Stacie stormed out of the area holding the activities fair, stomps leading them aimlessly through campus.

Beca rolled her eyes, exasperated, even as a fond smirk tilted her lips, “You call me a bitch all the time.”

“But I’m your main bitch, and you’re my main bitch. Only  _we_ can call each other bitch.”

“And even then, we don’t always get away with it.”

Stacie laughed, nodding her head in agreement and letting the warmth of being with her best friend ease her grip. She always did get a little worked up when people insulted them. They had long passed their middle-school bullying days, but Stacie kept those battles close to heart, ready to rip at anyone who hurt them. They’ve only had each other for so long—she’d be damned if anyone took that away from her.


	4. only the brave break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you drunk?”
> 
> “Maybe,” Beca sang, giggling along with the rest of her coworkers before she shushed them to continue.
> 
> “You’re not alone, are you? Do I need to call Theo again?”
> 
> Or: Beca's drunk af, Theo's a good dude, and Chloe is clueless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Word Prompt:_ Dare
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own PP or the characters. Unbetaed. Angsty (I think). Apologies if the "drunk dialogue" doesn't seem drunk enough, but I can't write drunk if I were actually drunk, how much more sober?

It was stupid and immature and Beca was sure as hell going to do it.

“Come on, Mitchell,” her coworkers teased as she struggled to pull her phone out of her pocket (being drunk as fuck at 2AM was not how she pictured her weekend ending).

The brunette muttered as she unlocked her phone with zero grace and finesse and started pulling up her messages (she was too drunk to actually press it and her closest coworker ended up doing it for her). “Yeah, yeah.”

“Put it on speaker!” Theo grinned as Beca directed her sound technician to call the last person she texted. Beca frowned at Theo’s request. “That’s not the dare.”

Theo and her other coworkers egged her on. “Come on, Beca! Do it! Do it! Do it!”

The brunette grimaced at the rising volume but let her coworker put the call on speaker before taking back the device. The entire table fell into anxious silence as the phone rang.

Once.

Twice.

Thri—

“Becs?”

The whole table held in their snickers as a dopey grin twisted the brunette’s lips, she slurred, leaning heavily on her free arm. “Chlo!”

“Are you drunk?”

“Maybe,” Beca sang, giggling along with the rest of her coworkers before she shushed them to continue.

“You’re not alone, are you? Do I need to call Theo again?”

“I’m right here, Red!” Theo burst from his side of the table and the rest of the group laughed and yelled in incoherent cheers.

“Am I on _speaker_?”

“Maybe,” Beca sang again, eyes closing as her grin widened and her head continued to pound. “I’m gonna tell you a secret.”

“On speaker? In front of _everyone_?”

“Yeah!” The brunette yelled more enthusiastically than her logical side was protesting. “I love you.”

“Aw, I love you, too, Becs, but maybe you shouldn’t tell me this big secret of yours on speaker. We both know you’ll regret it in the morning.”

“But I—” Beca paused, brows furrowing as her mind muddled to get her thoughts together.

“Come on, Bec, at least get off the speaker before you tell me.”

But she _had_ told her. She’d just—she was—

“Becs?”

Beca blinked, long and slow as her eyes rose from her phone to Theo’s worried expression. Chloe repeated. “Beca?”

“Sorry, Chloe, we’ll call you back!” Theo shouted, jumping across the table to grab Beca’s phone and frantically end the call. The rest of the group booed and jeered, everyone’s attention shifting from the musician to the producer—the table completely missing the way cold blue eyes stung and thin pink lips quivered.

It was stupid and immature and Beca sure as hell regretted doing it.


	5. drunk in love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe had tried to call, text, DM, Snap, WhatsApp, Messenger, Skype, and tried every other possible way to contact Beca but the brunette had decidedly ignored her.
> 
> Or: Chloe is an unstoppable typhoon, Beca's caught in her storm, and a continuation of Chapter 4: only the brave break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own PP. Unbetaed.

god.

 _Oh god_.

It took Chloe exactly seven hours and nine minutes to realize what the brunette had  _actually_ said to her.

Seven hours and nine minutes to realize that holy fucking  _shit_. Beca Mitchell  _loved_ her.  _Beca Mitchell_  actually loved— _loves_ —her.

The redhead had dropped her paperwork the second she’d realized it.

So there she was, tired as hell from her 43 hour drive and her joints aching all over.

Chloe had tried to call, text, DM, Snap, WhatsApp, Messenger, Skype, and tried every other possible way to contact Beca but the brunette had decidedly ignored her. Chloe knew she was being ignored because she’d texted Theo after her seventh call and he’d confirmed that Beca had locked away her phone since that night and so Chloe had made the stupidly insane decision to skip all her classes (but she sent an email to all her professors while she was stuck in traffic at least explaining that she would be absent—not the reason why) and drive like a madwoman over to Los Angeles to check up on her best friend—and possibly confess her five year love to her.

Chloe had a plan. She’d swoop in, tell Beca she felt the same way, and then end the grand, dramatic gesture with an equally dramatic (and hopefully passionately sexy) kiss. But her plan needed some help.

According to Theo, Beca’s been working her ass off trying to distract herself and so Chloe marched in to the music studio with all the determination and bravado of an angry as hell woman in love.

Theo was waiting for her at the reception, grinning widely and supportively as he handed her a visitor’s pass.

“I sent everyone else on break,” the producer informed the woman who'd taken the pass and strode past him confidently, matching her quick strides with a nervous tap (Chloe seemed to walk faster than the man even if she didn’t know where the fuck she was going). “But she’s still working in her studio and hasn’t left since… yesterday, actually, which is really unhealthy and concerning. Ah, there she is.”

Chloe jerked to a stop as Theo gestured to an open studio door that revealed the back of a tiny producer nodding along to whatever was playing on the headphones padded over her ears.

Chloe melted just slightly at the sight (she was a sucker for anything that involved Beca and music) but snapped straight as she remembered why she was there. She nodded determinedly at the man before stepping in, turning back to say, “We might be a while. Tell your team.”

She slammed the door shut with a jolt and the tiny brunette spun in her seat.

“Theo what the f—fuck.”

The headphones fell on to Beca’s shoulders at the sight of the furious redhead storming over in three dangerous strides.

Chloe stopped a good foot or two away before pulling the brunette in close by the front of her shirt, face inches away from the slightly frightened but mostly very confused brunette.

“Chlo? Why—What—”

“Damn you, Mitchell,” Chloe replied with a huff before closing the short distance to pull the brunette in for a searing kiss (so much for her plan).

Chloe pulled back seconds later, the brunette still frozen in shock at the sudden kiss and arrival of her best friend. Cold blue found warm ocean orbs swimming with—she didn’t dare  _think_ it, Beca couldn’t put her hopes up (not yet).

The redhead’s heated glare had softened into a warm smile as she leaned in again, full pink lips barely brushing the musician’s thin, chapped ones. “You know I love you too, right? Like, I’m crazy, stupidly in love with you?”

The only reply Beca could come up with was to pull the redhead in and nearly break the studio chair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that I had the drabble sequel for "there's no dumber dare than to love" but not "only the brave break" and it felt weird posting that sequel ahead of this one so here! Enjoy fiery redheads getting what they want ;) (I'll be posting the drabble sequel in a day or two hahaha)


	6. all fluff flies to heaven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warm tan arms wrapped around the brunette’s neck as the redhead leaned in, smirk turning soft. “Because you always mean it when you say you love me.”
> 
> “I love you,” Beca confirmed softly, closing the gap with a gentle smile.
> 
> Or: Chloe is an eye-roller, Beca's a cheeky ass, and it's a sequel drabble to "there's no dumber dare than to love".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's best to read this fic after reading "there's no dumber dare than to love" (although it can be fluffy solo drabble, too)
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own PP. Unbetaed.

Four years, eleven months, one week, and two days.

It was four years, eleven months, one week, and two days ago that Beca had answered their weekly FaceTime to the sight of a grinning redhead in tears and if someone were to ask her then what she thought would come out of the redhead’s “proposition”, she would have said a stronger friendship with her best friend. As true as that was—she was damn glad she was wrong.

“I can _do it_ , Becs.”

“I’m not worried about you, I’m worried about the baby.”

Chloe rolled her eyes at her wife’s teasing grin, letting the brunette take the Pyrex and slide it into the top shelf. The brunette dropped a quick peck on the redhead’s crown as she crawled back down the countertop, kissing away the slight pout on her wife’s lips with a cheeky smirk once she was back on her feet.

“You’re so cute when you’re pretending to be mad at me.”

“You’re hovering.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“Yeah, pregnant, not _disabled_ , Becs!”

“It’s not the same thing?!”

Chloe couldn’t stop the smile from quirking her lips despite the eyeroll she pulled out of habit (out of her _acquired_ habit). “I don’t know why I even love you.”

Beca chuckled, cold blue softening with her smile. “Me neither, but I’m thankful anyways.”

The redhead softened at the sudden sincerity. “It’s just cause there’re too many reasons.”

“Like letting you name our daughter _Aubrey_ ,” Beca’s cheeky smirk returned and Chloe batted her arm half-heartedly as the brunette pulled her in. “And because you like it when I give you foot massages.”

“And because you sing to our little angel when you think I’m asleep.” Beca blushed as Chloe’s own smile grew into a cheeky smirk. “Because you run to the store in the middle of the night without ever complaining even if you’d been working all day that day. Because you throw out your favorite food without a second thought when you realize the smell makes me sick. Because you’ve written lyrics about our little family in the margins of your planner without even realizing what you’re writing.” Warm tan arms wrapped around the brunette’s neck as the redhead leaned in, smirk turning soft. “Because you always mean it when you say you love me.”

“I love you,” Beca confirmed softly, closing the gap with a gentle smile.

It was four years, eleven months, one week, and two days ago that Beca had answered their weekly FaceTime to the sight of a grinning redhead in tears. If someone had told her back then that she would be married to the love of her life, expecting their first child in just a few more months, she wouldn’t have even been able to imagine it.

She still couldn’t quite grasp it. But she didn’t mind.

Not when she had forever wrapped in her arms.


	7. sick of being sorry for myself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly can't remember if my best friend made this up or just sent it to me(???) so if anyone knows the source, comment below! **_Soulmate AU:_** You can choose to take the pain of your soulmate away. Like if they’re sick or even if they just have a paper cut, you can choose to transfer the pain/sickness to yourself instead and they’ll heal. You can only do it once you meet them though, since what happens to them doesn’t happen to you, unless you transfer it to yourself.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I don't own PP. Unedited.

“I thought you were sick?” Stacie’s brows furrowed as she watched the redhead bound down the stairs with a blinding grin.

“I was!” Chloe enthused, nose wrinkling as she thought it over. “But the strangest thing happened after you stopped by—one second I was sick and the next I felt completely better!”

“Huh,” Stacie’s frown jutted at the comment but gave no other reply, the tall brunette waving a confused goodbye to the happy supersenior.

Not that Stacie wasn’t happy for the woman, she hated it when _any_ Bella was sick (because, ew, germs) but that was the seventh time in two months that Chloe had gotten “saved from death” as Amy had dubbed it. It was the seventh time _straight_ , really, and Stacie couldn’t help but find it all quite curious.

Shaking her head from her muddled thoughts, the brunette made her way up the stairs to grab her backpack and head to her first class of the day. As she rounded the corner to reach her room, she noticed a bundled little lump curled up on the floor.

She’d recognize those pale slender fingers anywhere.

“Beca?”

The captain weakly lifted her head, replying in a muffled groan as she squeezed her eyes shut.

“Holy shit, Bec, what happened to you?” the tallest Bella rushed to her side, hands immediately checking for her temperature and wrapping the blanket even tighter over her shoulders. “You’re burning up, let’s get you to bed.”

The DJ managed a grumbled, “Hungry” before letting the pre-med student drag her up the steps and back into her bed. Stacie flew in and out of her room, making some toast and tea, grabbing the medicine box, and finding the thermometer she’d left in Chloe’s room. She took Beca’s temperature as the shorter woman nibbled on her toast.

Stacie fussed over the woman as she searched for some towels and more blankets. “How’d you get so sick?”

Beca spat, “Weak fucking immune system.”

The thermometer rang and Stacie took it, reading it with wide eyes, “Well fuck, you have practically the same temperature Chloe had this morning.” The taller brunette paused, staring at the numbers as her brain started piecing things together. “In fact… you have the _exact_ same temperature as Chloe this morning.”

The shorter brunette grumbled, cleaning her hands with alcohol before burrowing into her sheets, deigning to give the pre-med student a reply.

Stacie glared in suspicion. “What aren’t you telling me, Mitchell?”

“Tomorrow,” was Beca’s muffled response, the DJ already falling asleep by the time Stacie had organized everything she brought.

 

* * *

 

“Spill.”

“Holy fucking shitsickles!” Beca jumped, hand flying to her heart as the other plugged her earphones back in the jack. She turned to the tall brunette standing by the entrance of the booth as her brows furrowed and thoughts registered what she’d said. “Wait, what?”

“Come on, Mitchell, spill,” Stacie made a move to step in, but Beca stopped her before her sole could touch the floor.

Beca sighed, turning back to the computer, “Give me three minutes to queue up some songs.”

Stacie complied, standing by the entrance as the DJ prepped her songs and slipped out of the booth to stand by her fellow Bella. The co-captain’s brow quirked as she squinted up at the pre-med. “So what?”

“So?” Stacie repeated, brows raising as she stared the woman down.

The DJ tried her best to seem unaffected, but the taller brunette had known Beca since high school and could wheedle her way through any stubborn determination the DJ had. Beca gave up their intense staring contest with a sigh. “You know what it is, Stace.”

“Confirm my suspicions, then.”

“Ugh, fine. We’re soulmates or whatever.”

“ _Beca_! Why haven’t you _said_ anything?!”

Beca shrugged, turning back to the booth longingly. “It’s whatever.”

“How long have you known?”

“Seriously, Stace, it’s not going to—”

“ _How long_ , Beca?”

“Freshamn year, after she sprained her ankle during our fourth rehearsal.”

“ _All this time_?”

“She was with Tom, then Jake, then Dylan, then Ansel—honestly, Stace, maybe we’re just one of those platonic soulmates and shit.”

“You and Red being platonic soulmates is Mt. Everest moving to Antartica— _on its own_.”

“You don’t know that.”

“And neither do you.” Beca heard the last song she’d queued start up and straightened in recognition. Stacie knew her time was up. “She’s going to figure it out sooner or later, Becs.”

“It’s been more than three years, Stace. I’ll survive.”

Stacie watched the DJ step back into the booth, muttering, “That’s what I’m worried about.”

 

* * *

 

Stacie was already regretting her plan, but desperate times called for desperate measures. She apologized to whatever god was out there and mentally apologized to her captain (one of her captains, whatever), but if she were right, then she knew Chloe would forgive her (and maybe possibly even thank her).

The next rehearsal practice they got, Stacie wandered as close to the redhead as subtly as possible and when the time came for their dreaded kick-snap, she forced a mistake (on herself, never on Chloe. Beca’d kill her if she did anything too obvious to hurt the redhead). The tallest Bella had kicked but instead of snapping up then side, she pretended to trip as she snapped up and proceeded to fall (eyes closed and ready for impact), taking the redhead down with her.

“Chloe!” the brunette co-captain was the first to arrive on scene (which, _thanks for the concern, Beca_ , the tallest Bella pouted, pulling away from the DJ frantically checking over the redhead).

But despite the lack of attention, Stacie had managed to do what she’d wanted.

Chloe winced as the shorter brunette checked on her ankle, shaking her head at whatever her co-captain had said to her.

Stacie had managed to sprain Chloe’s ankle (honestly, the pre-med student just wanted to leave a bruise, something Beca would fix without a second thought, but this was so much better (in the long run!)). Beca continued to fuss for a few more seconds before shouting, eyes still glued worriedly on the redhead, “Practice is over! Cynthia-Rose please pack up and lock the room while I get Chloe to the campus clinic.”

“I’m fine, Becs, let’s just go home.” And from the way the tiny brunette had heaved in a breath, Stacie knew Beca was going to cave.

Beca sighed. “Fine, but we’re putting ice on this and you aren’t moving _at all_ until we know it’s fully healed.”

Chloe nodded calmingly before letting the brunette bring her to her feet. Stacie was next to the pair in seconds, taking the other side as she helped Beca carry the redhead out. There was no way she was missing this.

(Chloe did thank her later, with earplugs and total control over the Bella house while she and Beca were away for the weekend.)


End file.
